Euthanasia
by Redaed
Summary: ευθανασία, good death – an oxymoron. What makes a man long for death? What drives him to live? Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, or any of the characters within. I am not deriving any benefit other than my own personal happiness from the publishing of this derivative work.

*****

**.e****uthanasia.**

"So, what do you think they're talking about in there?" Ginny asked, lobbing another Dungbomb at the door with subdued resignation. She sighed as it bounced off an invisible barrier, rolling back to their feet.

Fred bent over and picked it up, turning it around in his fingers thoughtfully. "Well, I have-"

"- no idea," chirped George. Despite throwing an irritated glare in his twin's direction, Fred shrugged. "He's right, actually. This is more a method of avoiding clean-up duty than anything else."

Hermione huffed impatiently. "I told you it was going to be a waste of time. And honestly, we shouldn't be eavesdropping like th-"

The twins smirked simultaneously. "Oh, but you want to hear all about _Haaaarry_, don't you?" George commented, wiggling his eyebrows. At the sound of Ginny's helpless giggling, Fred added, "Oh, wait a minute, that was Ginny." She shut her mouth with a scowl, but it was Ron who looked more embarrassed than any of them. Quickly changing the subject, he blurted out, "Anyway, we have a right to know what's going on, don't we? And since Mum's been trying to keep us in the dark, this is as good a shot as we've got." Solemn nods were had all around.

There were a few moments of silence as Fred took aim and whipped the Dungbomb at the door as hard as he could.

*****

The Order of the Phoenix was growing less orderly by the minute. In fact, a riot seemed liable to break out if the meeting didn't end soon.

However, nobody got a chance to say anything, because there was a loud thunk at the door, followed by the gasps of five Gryffindors, armed with Extendable Ears. For a moment, there was silence.

And then Sirius burst out laughing. Within seconds, the mirth spread around the table, until all but the most solemn of them (and the mother of three of the aforementioned Gryffindors) were wiping tears from their eyes. It didn't matter that there was nothing funny about their situation; they were all tired, worried, and in desperate need of stress relief.

Twinkling blue eyes gazed around the table with an air of mock severity. A hush fell over the room as the headmaster raised his hand for attention.

*****

Back in the hallway, the five conspirators were hardly breathing. They weren't sure why, but the innocent sound (_hem, hem_) of a throat being cleared sent a frisson of apprehensive fear down their backs.

*****

"If no-one has anything further to add?"

Nobody deigned to give that question a response - though some, perceiving that the long meeting was finally coming to a close, failed to suppress sighs of relief. The headmaster smiled with amusement before continuing.

"But, before we go our separate ways," – he held his hand up for silence as the room as a collective groan filled the air – "I would simply like to express my most sincere hope that the rest of your day is _considerably_ more enjoyable."

The headmaster's parting remarks were met by a few appreciative smiles, and the sound of chairs scraping the floor. Seeing the opportune moment to strike, Ginny burst in and started pestering Tonks for details. She was soon followed by Ron and Hermione; Ron, who was looking rather sheepish, could be heard to mutter, "Just like Dumbledore to remove the Imperturbable Charm right as the meeting's about to end…" The twins were surreptitiously avoiding their mother, moving expertly through the crowd while trying to catch the eye of Mundungus Fletcher.

Various members of the Order filed out the door, stretching their limbs and chatting amicably. In only moments, there was little evidence that the old, decrepit room had been used at all, other than a few stragglers - Fred and George were deeply engaged in conversation with Mundungus; Tonks was re-enacting some of the meeting's highlights for an enraptured Ginny, complete with detailed impressions; Hermione and Ron were watching in an off-hand manner that suggested that they were too old to be amused by such antics, while struggling not to laugh as the Metamorphmagus' imitation of Moody suddenly lost an eye; Dumbledore was simultaneously observing the show with a wry smile, and listening attentively to Snape, who was in turn glaring at everybody else in the room.

The force of his glaring must have been tangible, because Hermione, Tonks, and Ginny suddenly seemed to get the point, and ushered Ron out of the room with them. Fred and George looked up to see what the problem was, and decided that they would do well to take their business elsewhere. Finally, only Dumbledore and Snape remained in the room. After a few murmured syllables and gestures of his wand towards the door, the potion master turned to him, his voice low and urgent.

"Albus, I know what you've been doing."

A sidelong glance. "I have done many things, Severus. I'm afraid you must refresh my memory."

Snape shook his head in agitation.

"You know what I mean, headmaster. You've been checking my personal stores."

"Perhaps. In any case, I think you would agree that my precaution is for the best."

A snarl.

"I know very well what I'm doing, and it is not for you to interfere! I am not some child to be restrained because you wish it!"

"Perhaps I have been too lenient with you, Severus. I will not allow you to make that choice. It is not beneficial to the Order, and it is not beneficial to you."

"How dare you? You know nothing! Whether I am brewing a lethal poison or not should be of no concern to you. Neither should it be your concern if I choose to drink it!"

There. He had said it. He glared at the headmaster's stricken expression, daring him to make his response.

"Severus… I had my suspicions, but…"

He hated the old man. He hated him for the anguish that showed on his tired, bespectacled face. Pretending to _care_. He knew better.

The headmaster appeared to recover his voice.

"Whatever your reasons, this cannot be the best solution. I cannot allow you to hurt yourself in this way. It will not help you."

Snape began to pace the length of the room, his hands twisting and untwisting.

"You speak of _help_. There is no help for me, headmaster. Do me this last favour."

"It would only be an unkindness to you if I allowed it."

"You know it would be kinder to let me die."

"And you know that I care too much about you to-"

He swirled around, features contorted with pain and rage.

"_If you really cared, you would kill me_!"

When his impassioned cry received no response, he resumed his feverish pacing.

"It would be so easy, headmaster, so easy to pretend that you had discovered I was spying on you for the Dark Lord. Of course, you could not allow such a liability to live, so…"

He came to a halt, his back turned towards the wizard behind him. When he spoke again, his voice was malicious and cruel.

"But of course, being the noble _Gryffindor_ you are, you would refuse to do such a thing. Such pretences are _below_ you. So tell me, headmaster," – and here he paused, as if gathering his strength – "what would you do if it were true?"

There was a sharp intake of breath; Dumbledore appeared to be struggling for words. Snape took the opportunity to continue speaking, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes.

"I could do it. I have more information on the Order than almost any other, and the Dark Lord trusts me implicitly. If I went to him, your entire organization would fall apart. Your members would be picked off, one by one, slaughtered before your very eyes. Because of one man left alive, every one of your precious _children_ would be captured, tortured, and killed. Think about it, Albus. Think of their _pain_, their _suffering_, their _screams_, all because I continue to live-"

A voice, no longer small and weary, interrupted his tirade with thunderous .

"Would you truly be able to do it, Severus? Would you give them to your master? Would you sacrifice Harry too? Would you be able to look into his cold, dead eyes? The eyes of Lily's son?"

Snape flinched at the name. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Dumbledore's fury cut him off.

"Do you think she would be proud of you? Proud that you were so _weak_ that you killed her son? Do you think she would ever smile at you again? That she would _ever_ forgive you for your crime?"

It was enough. The proud, angry man who had stood only moments ago was gone; he cried out as he crumpled to the floor, his voice cracking.

"No! I would never.. Never! Forgive me!"

The headmaster did not allow his face to soften. He looked down at the dark figure lying on the ground, his entire figure shaking as he begged for forgiveness, half speaking to him, and half to somebody who was no longer alive. Dumbledore's voice was cold as he spoke once more.

"You must not forget her."

Snape's broken voice murmured through curtains of black hair. "No, I will not… I cannot… I can never forget.."

"Then you will do your duty, do everything you can to defeat Voldemort?"

He flinched, his hands twisting painfully once more, and he replied desperately, "Yes, yes, of course.. always.. I will do anything."

For a long moment, Dumbledore watched him. Finally, he relented, extending his hand. The Slytherin hit it away, lifting himself painfully from the floor. The headmaster smiled, a small, sad smile.

Onyx eyes met his, a searching, almost imploring look within them.

"I am not strong enough, Albus. I am not strong…"

"You must be strong. You must be strong for the Order."

Dumbledore hesitated, then spoke firmly, kindly.

"For Lily."

He hissed at him, "Don't say her name," but turned away.

Dumbledore followed him out of the room, out of the door to Number 12, Grimmauld Place. A moment later, Snape gasped and grabbed his left arm convulsively. The crack of Disapparition split the still evening air.

The headmaster remained a while longer, staring at the empty space where his spy had stood short seconds ago. Then he shook his head, took a step forward, and disappeared.

*****

A/N: I tried to write this scene so that it could conceivably happen within canon, before Harry first arrives at 12 Grimmauld Place in Book V. As well, the opening is supposed to be in the light-hearted style of much of JK Rowling's writing, before quickly shifting to somewhat... darker subject matter. Did I succeed? Constructive criticism is welcome, flames not so much (though if you really inexplicably hate me that much, I doubt anything I say could stop you, right?) Please read and review!


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